


Remembrance

by EClairedeLoon



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, F/M, Feels, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-09 09:24:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/453919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EClairedeLoon/pseuds/EClairedeLoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The five Avengers that just want to forget their first time and one that loves to remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> This is another story on I snagged from the kink meme and my first attempt at the 5+1 style. It's also my first foray into writing any of the other Avengers in any real detail, so I hope nothing is too OOC or just plain terrible. I was very free with the characters' past.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> P.S. As usual, this is unbeat'd, so I apologize for any mistakes that crop up.

**5\. Natasha**

It was snowing.

Natasha sat at the window of her apartment and looked out at the city as it was slowly covered in white powder. It was the first snow of the season, and like every year since that mission, her thoughts went to another day when the snow began to fall.

Instead of New York, her mind saw Russia. This was her first mission, her first mark, and behind her stoic façade, she was more nervous that she could express. She stared long and hard at the picture of the man she had to seduce, fingers trembling as she secured the diamond necklace around her slender neck.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her floor length evening gown was cut to accentuate her nubile form, the neckline exposing generous portions of her ample cleavage. Soft sweeping curls and light makeup finished the look and as she pulled on her gloves she tried to force the fine tremor out of her body.

She had a mission to do.

When she had been approached by her superior with such a delicate mission, she had been beside herself with excitement. A real mission. A real mark. She was finally ready. And then she learned the details of the mission.

Her mark had an appetite for young girls.

She was of legal age, but her fair skin and soft features were able to lend her the appearance of someone much younger. She was dressed like a woman but her face was that of a child and she was to allow herself to be lured to his home, seduce him, and steal the blueprints to an illegal nuclear weapons facility.

When her superior asked her if she could handle the mission, she nodded adamantly and swore it would be done. She left out the part where she had no experience with men. They might take her from the mission out of fear she would bungle the assignment.

No, instead, she convinced herself her inexperience was an asset, another layer to the charade designed to fool the mark, and strode determinedly to the ballroom. She paused outside the door and took a deep breath, letting her training take over, and she went from Natasha Romanov, deadly assassin, to Sveta Vikashev, delicate flower, hopelessly enamored with Alec Bagrov.

She was wildly successful. Alec took one look at her and fell under her spell, but the same could not be said for poor Sveta.

He was a selfish lover, and Natasha felt a pang of sympathy for all those that came before her. He was boorish and uncaring and as she crept from his home, blueprints tucked into her bodice, she had to resist wincing in discomfort.

She returned victorious and was given time to debrief and recuperate. She went to her tiny room and stared out the thin window, shivering from the cold. The she stared into the glass, made reflective by the darkness outside, and tried to ignore the array of aches and marks on her body.

It was snowing.

**4\. Bruce**

Bruce frowned into his cup of punch and brooded. He tended to avoid situations where his drinks couldn't be classified in ways such as martini and sour for a number of reasons, one of which being the unpleasant memories they bring up.

Clint had insisted in whipping up a drink that he'd consumed while in the circus, and while Bruce was certain it was bathtub rum and Hawaiian Punch, all he could think about was the punch he'd consumed at the one and only college party he'd ever attended.

It was green, and wasn't it fitting that all the things in his life that upset him were that particular color. He'd finally let one of his friends drag him to a party at a frat house where the liquor flowed and clothes were scarce. It took all of two seconds before Bruce realized the only way he was going to make it through this party is if he started drinking. Heavily.

And so he did. Cup after cup after noxious cup—no doubt also cooked up in the bathtubs of chemistry majors as a very personal type of experiment.

Bruce remembered getting quietly drunk and seeking solitude in the relative privacy of the hedges that surrounded the frat house. He stumbled into the chest of a tall, blond English major that could still quote flawless Shakespeare while he was drunk.

What he wasn't capable of, apparently, was exercising good judgment. It was clear Bruce was hammered and shy and, once he'd been pulled into an empty room, an absolute virgin.

Romeo wasn't deterred and Bruce had never wanted to disappear more as he lay on the scratchy comforter and listened to the blond pant into his ear, hot breath making his skin crawl while he desperately tried to ignore the sensations he was feeling below the belt.

When Romeo pulled out and collapsed next to him for a moment before reaching for his pants, Bruce wasn't sure if he wanted to cry out of shame or relief. The scales tipped in the favor of shame when he realized it wasn't lube he could feel dripping down his thighs.

The blond pressed a sloppy kiss to his lips before stumbling out the door and Bruce just lay there for a moment, willing the tears to fall. When none came, he stiffly got to his feet, set himself to rights, and painfully shuffled back to his dorm.

The next morning he waited in the lobby of his university's health clinch, disgrace sitting like a lead weight around his neck as he waited to see a doctor and get tested.

Bruce never went to another party. He looked down into the cup of punch he was drinking now and poured it into the potted plant Tony had in the living room. He hoped it died.

**3\. Tony**

Tony took a deep breath as hell pulled off all the various ropes and sashes that went with being one of the most lauded MIT graduates that ever lived. He hated coming here to give commencement speeches; to be the smiling, successful, famous face of such a brilliant college.

Being here always brought back the worst memories. Being both loved and hated by the populace thanks to his father's money and his own intimidating intellect. Most of the professors loved him—and his father's funding—but the students couldn't stand him.

He rubbed them the wrong way. He was smarter than them, younger than them, and they would never forgive him for it. Tony was well aware of this and elected to spend most of his time in labs or in the company of his professors.

One in particular.

Dr. Arthur Kale was the youngest of his professors, just 24, and nearly as brilliant as he was and, of course, the source of Tony's teenage crush. He hung on Arthur's every word and was absolutely enamored with the handsome young professor.

As with everything in his life, Tony didn't do anything by halves. Suddenly, Arthur was getting access to large sums of grant money and new equipment for his own, personal lab. Tony would have denied it until he was blue in the face, but Arthur never asked. He just gave Tony a slow, devastating grin and supervised the installation of yet another machine.

One day he asked Tony to stay after class and called him into his office. Tony's heart sunk into his chest, thinking he was going to be called out on his feelings and lectured, but was pleasantly surprised when, as soon as the door shut, he was pressed against the wall and kissed within an inch of his life.

He lost his virginity right there in that tiny office; spread out on a desk with too much teeth and not enough lube. Tony's heart soared despite the edges of the desk digging into sensitive areas. Every pointed jeer and hurtful word the other students said disappeared for a few blissful minutes.

And then Arthur was getting dressed and sitting at his desk like nothing happened. Tony stood and smoothed out his clothes and cleared his through awkwardly. Arthur looked down his nose at hims and told him he had papers to grade.

Tony's confusion must have showed on his face because Arthur grinned, but it wasn't _Tony's_ grin. It was wicked and harsh and made his insides twist in dread. "Now we _both_ got what we wanted, Stark. I got the equipment I needed to go forward with my research, and you got what you've been panting over since the first day of class."

And just like that, Tony realized he'd been used.

He could have told his father, had all the money and equipment taken back, but then everyone would know. He could sabotage the equipment himself, but then everyone would know. Instead, all he did was sit at the back of the class, keep his head down, and live in his lab. Anything Kale could do, he would do better.

But even though Tony was better, Kale was still _good_. Outstanding, actually, and one of the reasons Tony had been so drawn to him. And now he had to come back here, nearly every year, and look at that bustard's smug, tenured face—a position he earned with the equipment Tony gave him.

He wanted a drink.

**2\. Thor**

Looking at Pepper Potts for the first time was like being hit with Mjolnir itself. Her strawberry blonde hair and bottomless eyes brought back long suppressed memories of Vali; the first woman he had ever lain with.

On the day he was deemed a man there was great feasting and festivities in Asgard. After the public celebrations on the day of his birth, his closest friends, the Warrior's Three, had taken him to a tavern where the barmaids specialized in something more than the delicious summer ale he and his companions enjoyed.

His friends paid a fine woman quite handsomely to make him a man in all ways and hooted and hollered as she coaxed him into furthering their acquaintance in a more private setting. She pulled him into a room with a roaring fire and a sturdy bed, arranging herself against the furs invitingly.

Thor slowly stripped his armor from his body until he was as naked as the day he was born, precisely 200 years ago.

Vali pulled him onto the nest of fur and linen and touched him expertly before pressing him onto his back and hiking up the folds of her dress, straddling his waist. She was still fully clothed but Thor could feel her wet heat against his own sex.

He reached forward to loosen the laces of her bodice, pulling the soft linen away from her ample bosom. She sighed and took him inside her, laying her hands over his as they inexpertly massaged her breasts.

She clenched around him and he let out a strangled gasp, suddenly aware of how close he already was. He could feel his release creeping up on him and no amount of foul thoughts could keep it at bay. He groaned as he released mere moments after they had started.

She still and sighed again, this time in disappointment, and humiliation bloomed in Thor's chest. He had finished like a milk livered boy and gave no pleasure to his partner. She still smiled at him kindly but it only made his cheeks burn. He did not deserve to be hailed as god of fertility.

Not wanting to embarrass himself further by emerging from the room so quickly, he had no choice but to sit in the company of a woman he was unable to look in the eye. Her understanding only made it worse, as she molded herself to his broad back and stroked his hair for nearly an hour.

When he deemed his pride safe, he rose and pressed a kiss to her delicate hand and a left a necklace he had looted from a group of bandits they had dispatched the day prior.

His friends praised him when he emerged, slapping him on the back and grinning and he played along, despite his failure. Though he would return to this place again, seeking out the same woman and learning the art of love, the guilt and dishonor he felt whenever he thought of that first night was a wound that would never fully heal.

**1\. Steve**

The bed he was laying in was too small. His feet hung over the end and the unfamiliar weight of a woman resting her head on his chest made him feel gangly and awkward. Her name was Kelly and Steve had only met her a few hours ago while he was eating in the SHIELD commissary.

She strode up to him, so confident and determined, and for one second, he swore he saw Peggy. Her looks were similar, but he would soon find out they were nothing alike. No one could be like his Peg.

She smiled where Peggy would have frowned. She was forward where Peggy would have demurred. But, somehow, Steve found himself in her apartment a few hours later, sitting on her couch while she ran her hands over his chest and deftly undid his belt.

He thought about trying to excuse himself from the situation but every taunt he'd ever heard, every remark about his old-fashioned morals, the embarrassment of being a 100 year old virgin, played over and over in his head.

He bit his lip and let her pull him into her room. Though she was undeniably lovely, he struggled to remain interested in the proceedings, was made even more miserable by the fact she called out for Captain America as she reached her peak.

Hearing that was like being doused with cold water, and he faked his own climax shortly after. Kelly was too distracted by her internal gloating to notice his indiscretion. He darted into the bathroom to get rid of the condom and stared at himself in the mirror, hating what he saw.

He was pulled back into bed and waited until her breath was deep and even. He carefully slipped out of bed and pulled on his clothes. He felt sick at the thought that he'd slept with a stranger. He was a notch on someone's bedpost, nothing more. There was no love, no caring, no emotions that he thought would be present when he finally made love to a woman.

Remorse was thick in his throat like bile as he trudged toward SHIELD and his motorcycle, wishing for the first time in ages that he could get drunk.

**+1. Clint**

Clint's breath had caught in his throat when the Avengers had settled down to watch _Water for Elephants_. It was like she had been captured on film.

Clint knew his circus past was the source of a lot of mirth within the Avengers and it didn't bother him one bit. Honestly, it _was_ funny. He was an _acrobat_. He wore glitter. But, it was also a place where he had some of the best experiences of his life.

He'd met some truly interesting people, made lifelong bonds, and more importantly, met Elsa. Elsa had been a painfully lovely girl, tan skin and round face with white-blonde hair and a soft, dreamy voice. It would have been impossible for Clint _not_ to fall in love with her.

He was an acrobat, and she was a horse trainer. They didn't have much reason to socialize with one another, but Clint was drawn to her. They were the same age and unusually reserved for circus folk, content to just sit quietly and listen to the sounds of the people around them, go for walks in their little traveling town that always made them feel at home in a strange place.

One evening he sat with her in the horse cart, lanterns burning bright as Elsa eagerly awaited the birth of a new foal. The little colt didn't come that night, but in the warmth and seclusion of the makeshift barn, he and Elsa came together.

She placed her delicate hand on his shoulder and he was lost. He kissed her and pressed her back onto the blanket they had lain over the sweet-smelling hay. They giggled quietly as they wiggled out of their skintight costumes and Clint was both grateful and embarrassed that he'd been hopeful enough about this that he'd smuggled a condom inside his shoe.

Elsa smiled at him and her green eyes glinted in the lamp light. He wasn't Elsa's first, but she was his, and that was okay. It was amazing and perfect and _everything_ like he'd imagined and _nothing_ like he'd imagined because it was so much more.

He loved her. He'd loved her enough to let her go.

Nearly a year into their relationship, Elsa's magic with the horses she adored caught the eye of a wealthy equestrian family. She was approached after the show and offered a permanent position in their generous estate if she would work her magic on their own unruly but purebred horses.

She'd asked for time and they gave it to her, until the circus was slated to head out. Elsa came to Clint and declared she wasn't going to take it, even though he could tell that it would kill her. He shook his head and took her hands and pressed one last, lingering kiss to her lips, her beautiful cheeks, her curly hair, and told her to go.

Elsa cried and hugged him until he couldn't breathe and when his little town moved on, she didn't. He waved goodbye to her as she sat on her meager luggage and waited for the family to come retrieve her from the station and just like the, the circus was no longer his home.

Clint shook his head, coming back to the present, as the movie came to a close. He quietly excused himself to his room and locked the door, digging out the one picture he had of the first girl he'd ever loved. He grabbed his computer with his other hand and did something he vowed he'd never do.

He typed Elsa Wash into Google and the first result was Elsa's very own webpage, advertising her services as a trainer and breeder. He hovered over the link to her contact information and clicked before he could convince himself not to.

He saw her smiling face and his resolve to simply look crumbled and his memories came flooding back again. He opened a new email.

 _Hello,_ he wrote. _I don't know if you'll remember me…_

**Author's Note:**

> Why do I have emotions? Ugh, I hope that didn't give you as many feels as I gave myself.
> 
> I wanted to do something a little different, since I kind of assumed everyone would think Steve would be the one to like his first time and I don't think Clint gets nearly enough love.
> 
> Also, I know most circuses don't travel by train anymore (at least I don't think they do), but just let me have my _Water for Elephants_ moment, okay?
> 
> Hope you liked it!


End file.
